A Matter of Flavored Water
by binnibeans
Summary: England's tea is missing. It's not where it usually is. When he finds out where it went, he's … not as mad as he thought he'd be.


**A/N:** For **usxuk**'s Summer Camp event!

Day 25: Tea/Coffee

_The beverages of choice for England and America respectively. Either tea, coffee, or both must be featured in the fanwork somewhere. They can be drinking it, discussing it, going to/working at a place that sells it, etc._

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><p>Feeling rather refreshed after a nice morning shower, England had been pleased to note upon returning to America's room that America had finally gotten out of bed. On the flipside, he'd also noticed that America had failed to make said bed. So England at least made the covers look semi-decent, and dressed himself quickly before going to the kitchen, where from wafted the scent of coffee. (He assumed that America had rushed a shower downstairs.)<p>

He stood there for a moment, peering around the kitchen. He wasn't really at all a fan of coffee; the taste was far too bitter for his own liking. It was odd to think of—he, who didn't mind bitter tastes to dislike coffee, and America, whose sweet tooth could eat as many cupcakes it desired, who was addicted to coffee. Regardless: If there was anything England did like about the beverage, it was the scent of fresh-ground coffee beans. America, for convenience's sake, often purchased pre-ground coffee. The scent of that wasn't … _bad_, but England still maintained his preference.

Coffee aside, England was ready for tea.

He went to the cupboard where America _allowed_ him to keep his tea. ("I don't want your soggy tax-collecting tea in my house!" "It was _three cents_, America! I would hardly—oh, never mind! I won't allow you to bring any coffee to England!" "…Fine. I guess I'll let you keep it, but you have to keep it in the furthest corner!") He reached in to the very back, his hand hitting the back wall to find nothing. He roamed his hand back and forth, only hitting the walls of the cupboard, and when he finally withdrew his hand and looked inside, he noticed something that was making his day a Very Not Good Day.

His tea was gone.

He stood there staring; he didn't know for how long. All he knew was that his tea was gone, and that such a thing was bad. Very, very bad. As an Englishman—no! As _England_, for him to start his day without tea was something close to sin, but it was worse than that. How could he function at all? Tea was to England what coffee and cola were to America. He _needed _it. If he wasn't so busy with his head buzzing a flat-line, he'd have noticed that the mere thought of no tea that morning was making him shake. He'd only just barely noticed America entering the kitchen, fresh from his own shower.

"Hey, England? You okay?"

England first shifted only his eyes to America, narrowed in their gaze, then finally turned, pointing to the cupboard.

"Where is my tea."

England watched every single minute movement America made. With the mention of the word _tea_, America stiffened, his eyes locked with England's. In (apparent) nervousness, America folded and unfolded his arms, shifted his weight from foot to foot once or twice, and he even began to go red in the cheeks.

"I-I dunno! Gosh, England, you probably drank it all last time you were here! Of course you wouldn't remember!"

"I wasn't here that long ago, and I know I had plenty left."

America got a little defensive. "Well I dunno! Why would I know? I don't … touch the stuff!" He looked away, finally, an almost ashamed look gracing his face.

England paused. He lowered his arm, closed the cupboard, and stepped just one pace closer to America. "America…" he began tentatively. His voice was much calmer; much more inquisitive than accusing. "Did you … drink my tea?"

"No!" America said quickly. "Why would I want your nasty tea?"

"You did! You did drink my tea!"

"All it is is flavored water!"

"You forget, so is coffee."

"Only coffee's better than leaf-water! Duh!"

"But you still drank my tea!"

"No…!"

The Not Good part of England's Very Not Good Day lightened a little. The day wasn't quite at Good, just yet; he hadn't had his tea, but the thought of America drinking tea again amused England to almost no end. America used to love tea when he was younger, before his rebellion. The very idea that America had willingly drunken tea of his own accord….

England stood in front of America, now, though the younger kept his gaze determinedly away, his face growing more and more red by the second. It made England grin widely once more, his excitement growing just a bit. "You did," he stated matter-of-factly.

"Didn't…" America muttered, this time with a double-order of shame, hold the tears, thanks.

"America, you don't need to lie to me. I won't be mad."

America didn't say anything. He just stood there, still looking away and still looking ashamed. England grabbed his chin, moving his face around a bit and studying his eyes as best he could. America refused to meet his gaze, and he grew warmer under England's touch. It was somewhat delightful to England. Rather cute.

It was another several seconds, neither side relenting, before America finally muttered, "Yes, I drank it…" but by the time it had finally sunk in to England's mind, America was already insisting how, "Gross!" and, "Nasty!" it was, almost having to spit it out several times. While England knew that America's taste buds were a little off, part of him knew (read: hoped) that America was just kidding, and actually quite enjoyed it. After all, he'd had plenty of tea left, all of it being gone, now. How could he not have enjoyed it. (More than that, who else did America think to blame it on? He couldn't just pawn it off on England—England hadn't been there. No one else in America's house could be blamed, least of all Tony. America was the only one available to actually drink any of it; to have opposable thumbs!)

"I-I guess … you wanna go out and buy some tea, huh…?" he finally asked.

England nodded with a grin, combing his fingers through America's hair, trying to make sure that it would dry properly. "That would be lovely, America."

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><p>END<p>

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><p><strong>Quick Note:<strong> So far, most of what I've read was that the tax added 3 cents per pound of tea to the colonists. But I've also read that the added tax was anywhere between .8% and 66%. Quite an extreme! Also, though I'm not sure I'm sold on it, I read tha the tea bought from the East India Company was actually _cheaper_ than what was smuggled in, so I just…. Ahhh.


End file.
